


planetos.tv/broadcast_live

by RhllorsWastedBard (SaintEpithet)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Various AUs - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Channel Hopping, Bootlegging, Crack, Crack Crossover, Crossover, Dark Lord Sam Tarly, Dornish Telenovela, Experimental Style, Femme Fatale!Catelyn Stark, Flat Planetos, Gen, Hardboiled!Harry Strickland, Humor, Rated G for Grotesque, Smuggling, Tullys in Space, Very intellectual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:07:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 5,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25958755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintEpithet/pseuds/RhllorsWastedBard
Summary: Semi-coherent snippets of various crack AUs and crossovers.
Relationships: Harry Strickland/Catelyn Tully Stark (one-sided for now), Tywin Lannister & Balon Greyjoy (Partners in Crime), Victarion Greyjoy & Ghiscari Fisherman (Rivalry)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 12
Collections: The Gen Sub Hub





	1. Cutthroat Kitchen Westeros - Season 1, Episode 15

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quiet_wraith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet_wraith/gifts).



> This is a not entirely non-sequitur collection of crossovers, fusions, and AUs. The concept, as the title suggests, is a TV station that airs a variety of unconnected shows. Each chapter is a snippet of what is currently 'streaming' when you zap in.
> 
> It is unlikely you'll catch the beginning or end of an episode. It is unlikely you'll catch the same show each time you 'watch'. It is unlikely you'll catch all episodes. You might see reruns or earlier episodes. You might see cliffhangers, 'last week on this program' montages, or intro/outro credits. The station might drop shows or add new ones. There could even be commercials.
> 
> **Currently on rotation**  
>  \- Far Beyond The Stars - The Voyages of Starship Riverrun: ASoIaF/Star Trek TNG  
> \- Days Of Dorne: A Dornish telenovela  
> \- Smuggler's Blues: ASoIaF/Boardwalk Empire  
> \- Harry Strickland, P.I.: Hardboiled private eye Harry Strickland investigates crimes in the rough streets of King's Landing  
> \- Iron Sails: An adventure series that follows Victarion Greyjoy on his quest to circumnavigate Planetos, unaware that Planetos is flat (vaguely inspired by 'Black Sails' and 'Master and Commander')
> 
> **Currently being filmed**  
>  \- Strange Snacks: a travel/food show hosted by Wyman Manderly  
> \- Kingsmoot Points: a political late night talk show set on Nagga's Hill  
> \- untitled superhero shows that constantly get cancelled  
> \- reality shows like 'Queen of Love and Beauty' (The Bachelorette), 'Master of Watchers' (Big Brother), or 'Hellholt's Kitchen'  
> \- documentaries with topics such as 'Wildlife of Sothoryos' or 'Architecture of the Reach' (which may or may not have a reliable narrator)
> 
> Tagged characters/their AU versions will appear frequently; cameos are not tagged to prevent clutter.

"And here's the first sabotage!" Hot Pie lowered a small curtain, revealing the empty hearth of the tavern behind it. "You can take away a rival's fire and leave them with 'Olenna Tyrell's sick burns' as their only source of heat for this round! Let's start bidding with two golden dragons!"  
  
"What is this madness?" Tywin Lannister promptly demanded to know. The situation he found himself in was entirely unusual, not only because he had no memory of how he got here.  
  
"Two golden dragons," Arya Stark, standing on a counter next to Lord Tywin, yelled at Hot Pie without acknowledging the confusing surroundings.  
  
"Fuck it, five dragons," Sandor Clegane barked, then his brow furrowed in thought and he glared at the host. "I can sabotage myself if I win the bid, right?" When Hot Pie didn't immediately answer Clegane made a menacing step toward him and got the confirmation he wanted.  
  
Tywin Lannister still didn't understand what was going on, but he gathered this was a competition and it was about money. "Ten golden dragons!" he shouted. "And now someone tell me why we are bidding on things!"  
  
"You are on Cutthroat Kitchen," Hot Pie calmly informed him while the other contestants rolled their eyes. "Your task is to cook the best dish of each round, and to improve your chances you may buy sabotages and inconvenience your opponents." He glanced to said opponents, but none of them signaled a higher offer. "Congratulations, Lord Tywin, the first sabotage is yours! Which rival are you giving it to?"  
  
Irritated, Tywin glared at a servant who took ten golden dragons from a bowl on the counter and brought the coins to Hot Pie. "What in the world would I want with Olenna Tyrell?" Tywin asked. Then it occured to him that he won something, so why shouldn't he use it? "Give her to Clegane," he said with a shrug. "If this is about cooking, he's a lost cause either way. Never squired, I doubt he can even boil water."  
  
"You are supposed to hinder your rivals, not do them favors!" Arya shot a snide glance to Tywin, then looked at the snickering Hound to her right. Before she could voice more discontent, her attention was drawn to a large cart wheeled in by servants.  
  
"Our next sabotage is a very special one," Hot Pie announced, visibly amused, and pulled the cloth off the cart, revealing a cage with three confused men inside. "Remember, your first task is preparing a delicious roast. If you win this bid you may replace one rival's meat of choice with three sons of Walder Frey! Now that would really inconvenience them, wouldn't it?"  
  
"Twenty golden dragons!" Tywin shouted before Hot Pie had even named the price bidding would start with.  
  
"You only have fifteen dragons left," Hot Pie calmly replied. "You paid ten for the sabotage you gave to Sandor Clegane."  
  
"I don't understand." Tywin inspected the bowl on his counter. "This is hardly all the money I own, I can..."  
  
"Those are the rules," Hot Pie cut him off with an air of importance. "Twenty-five dragons for each contestant. Do you want to bid fifteen then?"  
  
Still puzzled, Tywin nodded and since nobody challenged the ridiculously high offer, another small victory went to him. "Let Arya have them," he muttered while watching a servant take the remaining coins from his bowl. "She wanted a sabotage, now she got one."  
  
"As if that's a problem for me." Arya scoffed and began preparing the knives on her counter. "No-one has a better roast recipe, I can make it work with any meat."  
  
And as she said it, the memory finally came back to Tywin. He smiled, reached behind his ear and pulled off his face. "I do indeed have a better recipe," he said and proceeded to cook the best duck roast in all of the realms.


	2. Days Of Dorne - Episode 674752

"AGAIN?!" Prince Alequandro stared at his daughter in disbelief. "Your mother-in-law is a grown woman! How did pirates kidnap her for the third time this year?"

"You see, father, it is her brother's fault," Princess Ariella solemnly replied. "Had he not eloped with this Lyseni merchant's betrothed, her kin would never have sent pirates after mine."

The prince sighed. "And I'm expected to pay the ransom again, am I not?" His daughter nodded, but it was awfully close to a carefree shrug in his eyes. "Fine. Send for your uncle. He'll..."

"No, father," Arielle interrupted. "The pirates won't fall for the same trick again. The 'coins' we crafted from sandstone don't fool them anymore. We need to come up with a better idea."

Prince Alequandro thought long and hard about that for the better part of a minute, but reached no result. The gate swung open, and the fire of a thousand suns entered, taking the form of his wife. "ALEQUANDRO!" she shrieked, foaming with anger. "Did you know that Hernandys bribed the master-at-arms to pass the archery exam? Oh, don't try to tell me you had no clue! You are always involved in your heir's shenanigans somehow! But this time, you two rascals went too far! He paid the master-at-arms with the brand new sand steed I gave him for his 16th name day!"


	3. Far Beyond The Stars - First Contact

"We are diplomats. We will not fire first!" The voice of Captain Edmure Tully was stern, as was his glower at the screen of the USS Riverrun. "We need to know what we are dealing with. Right now, we don't even know if the vessel is hostile."

"It sure looks hostile to me." Ensign Mallister studied the analysis of his science station intently. "Dangerously unstable, at the very least."

Captain Tully got up from the captain's chair and walked toward the main screen. The structure depicted on it was unlike any vessel the USS Riverrun had ever encountered before. Two enormous cubes, connected by what looked like a breezeway in the middle, floated in the vast void of space. No nearby systems, and - according to Lieutenant Goodbrook in Astrometrics - nothing of note in the area at all. No stellar anomaly, no communications relay, no nebulas; nothing the unknown inhabitants of the cubes could have studied. "Number One, can we enhance the range of our scanners? Perhaps there is..." he pondered out loud, but was interrupted before he finished the thought.

"Captain, the unidentified vessel has opened a channel," Commander Piper informed him. "Visual and audio. I'll put it on the screen."

Tully straightened his posture, crossed the arms behind his back, and waited for the image in front of him to reveal at least part of the mystery. A flickering, dark room - or hall - came into view. Vast, foggy, clearly biomechanic. However, no lifeform could be seen. Perhaps non-corporeal beings, Edmure thought. "I am Edmure Tully," he introduced himself nonetheless. "Captain of the USS Riverrun, the flagship of the Federation of Planets. Our mission is one of peaceful discovery and exploration. We have no hostile intentions, I assure you. If we entered your space..."

"Lower your shields and disarm your weapons," the tinny chorus of a hundred voices cut him off. "You will surrender your vessel and crew. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile."

"Not so fast!" Commander Piper planted himself in front of the screen, shoulder to shoulder with his captain. "Who are you? What are you? Why would you think we'll surrender? The USS Riverrun is more than capable of defending herself!"

"We are Seven of Frey," the tinny chorus monotonously answered. "Your life as it has been is over. From this time forward, you will service us."


	4. Commercial Break

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Don't be a craven and send a raven today!


	5. 7K2Day - News at 8

...unidentified villain is still on the loose. A reward of five golden dragons has been promised to whoever returns the stolen horse, with or without the culprit's head. Relevant information regarding this impertinent case of thievery can be reported to the city watch of King's Landing, the Master of Laws, or any members of House Rosby, the aggrieved party.

Sports. In a ludicrous display, Ser Bronn of the Blackwater defeated the reigning binge drinking champion of Darry, Ser Lymont, last night. With a lead of three and a half jugs of strong beer, Ser Bronn crushed the opposition in the Ivy Inn, much to the amazement of sixty-four cheering spectators.

And now to Lady Agetha of Pentos with the weather.


	6. Iron Sails - Morn

"Cursed be that craven mackerel of a Ghiscari!" The mast almost shattered under Captain Victarion's angry fist. "He gave us false directions yet again!"

His first mate, Nute, had glared to the horizon with narrowed eyes, but upon the captain's outburst, he turned around. "But these _are_ mountains," he noted, visibly puzzled. "And we are sailing the Hidden Sea. It was just where he said we would find it."

"It took us months to carry the _Iron Victory_ through the lands of Yi Ti!" Wulfe One-Ear chimed in, just as bewildered. "The Ghiscari must have known how laborious it would be!" He paused and furrowed his brow in thought. "How do we know he sent us to the wrong place again?"

"Do you see any people, other than us?" Victarion thundered, pointing his axe to the shoreline. "We've sailed along every shore of this pond he called Hidden 'Sea' thrice, yet we still haven't caught the smallest glimpse of the mountains' owner or his dwelling! If this Morn was as wise as the fisherman said, why wouldn't he have built his castle by the water?"

The crew found this to be a reasonable deduction, and disenchantment claimed one face after another. 

"What if... the fisherman himself is Morn?" Longwater Pyke suggested after a long, silent moment of contemplation. "Perhaps he sent us on a wild whale chase because he doesn't want us to complete the voyage."

Nute shook his head, but he didn't seem to be convinced of his own rejection of this idea. "Why would a fisherman care about that?"

"Because he wants to reap the glory himself!" Victarion declared with an air of conviction. "A fisherman! He must have a ship of some sort! And if he is indeed Morn, he also owns the secret charts that make a circumnavigation of the globe possible! That must be it! He knows the _Iron Victory_ is much better suited for a voyage so long and perilous. Deception is his only hope if he wants to be the first captain to accomplish the impossible task!" He stomped across the deck and pointed southwards when he reached the far side of the ship. "But we won't let him steal this glory from us! We're going back to Meereen! This lying knave will walk the plank, and once he's disposed of, we'll take his ship and those sea charts he must be hiding!"


	7. Movie - Summer is coming

The waxen walls of Light's Landing shimmered wet and oily in the morning sun. Candlings of all melts of life scurried about in the streets, going about their waxy business or simply enjoying the chill of the air. Soon, House Flicker's motto - 'Summer is coming' - would be much more than just dreaded words. The merciless heat of the season would ravage the realms. Many lives would melt away, and even the most resilient of candlings would feel their limbs - and their fortitude - soften.

"Lord Varys!" Petyr Baelish greeted the corpulent mass of blue wax, sauntering down the Street of Wax in the opposite direction. "It appears your light burns low today," he added when Varys stopped and the small flame atop his bald head flickered with mild irritation. "Are you not feeling well, old friend?"

"Oh, don't pretend that the looming summer doesn't concern you as well," Varys gave back. "A black raven from the Citadel arrived today. The maesters predict the longest, hottest summer in recent history is upon us. In less than a year, we could see the entirety of Light's Landing melt away right before our eyes."

"Ever the mummer!" Baelish let out a brief laughter and took a step back. Varys' scent was particularly overwhelming despite the cool of the morning. It would only get worse with each day summer drew closer. "You are being dramatic - as are the maesters. Every summer will be the 'longest and hottest in recent memory', according to their overblown predictions. They only want attention. I assure you, we have enough ice and snow in our larders to survive even if they are right this time."

Varys wrinkled his waxy nose, unsettlingly shineless due to layers of powder. "Forgive my bluntness, Lord Baelish, but today it appears as if _you_ are not the brightest," he muttered as he swayed away, leaving a trail of sweet perfume in the chill morning air.


	8. Smuggler's Blues - My Enemy's Enemy

A gibbous moon illuminated the shabby waterfronts on the outskirts of Lannisport, shrouded the deserted streets in a wan, silvery light. Despite the late hour, the mood inside the Purring Lion was elated.

"Easily the most splendid idea His Imbecile Grace ever had!" Tywin Lannister laughed and toasted to Balon Greyjoy with a glass of spiced rum. "With this so-called 'prohibition' he handed us the realms on a silver platter!"

"A golden platter, if things go as planned!" Balon slapped Tywin's shoulder, then poured down his drink in one go. "And why wouldn't they? There is no way the Mad King can enforce his silly idea!" He took off his black fedora and skillfully spun it on his finger. "My brothers will arrive just after a midnight. Their ships are disguised as simple fishing boats, the cargo is declared as barrels of salted pork from Tyrosh. It will be child's play for you to sell the liquor in a city as dry as the deserts of Dorne."

"No doubt." Tywin waved to the barkeeper for another refill. "In fact, the demand is higher than we expected. Your brothers will bring me one hundred and twenty-one barrels, yet eighty-six have already been sold to Sarsfield. Ten Towers wants another fifty for an upcoming wedding." He produced a leather-bound ledger from his suitcase and opened it to show Balon the relvant page. "Here, Crakehall wants ten to twenty. Septon Molyn of Oxcross wants five for 'ceremonial purposes'. House Prester wants sixty for a celebration next month. And House Banefort said they'll buy whatever we have left."

Balon studied the table listing prices and orders for supposedly innocous foodstuffs. "There's more coin to be made," he thoughtfully noted. "If only we had more booze to supply them all..."

"I may have a solution." Tywin closed the ledger and returned it to his suitcase. "Our lands are mountainous and not especially fertile. What we need is a partner who can aid with the production. If we don't depend soley on foreign suppliers from the Summer Islands and the Stepstones, our profits will be even greater despite splitting them with a third party."

"You're the master of coin in our operation," Balon gave back. "If you say we'll earn more this way, I'm inclined to believe you. However, where would we find the kind of partner you suggest? We've already pricked our ears in the Reach. Outwardly, they fervently support the Mad King's prohibition - while they secretly transform septs across the realm into wineries and view us as competition."

Tywin smiled a secret smile to himself, then leaned closer to Balon. "Our enemy's enemy is our friend, as they say. House Martell sits on a sizeable stockpile of palm wine, but lacks the fleet they need for large scale distribution. I'm sure we could come to agreement with Prince Doran..."

Balon considered the proposal for a moment, then a wide grin emerged on his face. "Perhaps we should talk to him then. Make the arrangements."


	9. Far Beyond The Stars - Marq II

"I told you Grand Nagus Mace wasn't forthright with us!" Captain Tully sighed and let himself sink back into the captain's chair. "Why did you beam down on your own and make the deal anyway?"

"I thought it was worth a closer investigation," Commander Piper gave back, but his voice lacked the usual confidence and conviction. "It is not every day that somebody claims to have invented a brand new transportation device."

"Chief Blackfish could have disassembled the prototype and figured out how exactly it was working," the other Commander Piper added. "If it had been working the way the Nagus said it would..."

"If," Captain Tully sharply echoed. "Yet it didn't. Instead of merely beaming you back to the Riverrun..." He rubbed his eyes and turned his gaze to the other - hopefully the real - Commander Marq Piper. "...it piggybacked on our own transporter signal and somehow cloned you! What am I going to do with two commanders? You can't both be Number One, and neither of you will back down!"

The two Marq Pipers immediately glared at each other. "Of course I won't back down," they firmly declared with one voice. "I'm the real one! We need to get rid of this brazen imposter!"

"What if we use the Tyrelli transporter again?" Ensign Mallister suggested. "Perhaps it will splice the DNA in the buffer and materialize only one complete person on the other end."

Chief Blackfish vehemently shook his head at that. "And perhaps it won't! Perhaps it will spit out another two copies instead!"

"I am not a copy!" the two Marq Pipers protested in unison, but Chief Blackfish simply ignored the interjection.

"I recommend confining both of them to their quarters and asking Counsellor Roslin to scan them again," he said. "The Emergency Maester Hologram couldn't tell them apart, but maybe she can sense a difference with her empathic powers."

Captain Tully got up and strode to the door of the elevator. "I will confer with her first. Such confused minds might require mental preparation. And since we cannot confine both of them to the same quarter, take one to Sick Bay and tell the EMH to keep an eye on him."


	10. Masters of Whispers - Celebrity Magazine

...special issue due to the recent controversy surrounding actress Mylena of Bronzegate. The 23 years old mummer has played the character 'Princess Ariella' on the popular telenovela 'Days of Dorne' for the past two years, joining the cast in the second episode of season 445. In recent weeks, rumors disputing Mylena's Dornish heritage have surfaced and outraged the show's loyal fans. Most notably, a woman claiming to be Mylena's half-sister has come forward with allegations - and supposedly evidence - that Mylena's parents are in fact of Braavosi descent. 

'Days of Dorne' has been Westeros' most beloved telenovela since Aegon's Conquest, enjoying huge popularity especially in the Stormlands and the Reach. Set at a fictionalized version of the Dornish court, the show follows Prince Alequandro Nartell and his very extended family. In its long broadcast history, 441 Nartells have been introduced - counting only blood relatives of the prince. (Nartells by marriage and adoption amount to the staggering number of 3481, which doesn't include the numerous Sands the show has featured over the years.) Among the Nartells by birth are also six different twin brothers (and two sisters) of Prince Alequandro, none of which appear to be aware of other siblings.

Naturally, the current controversy is neither the first nor will it be the last. Fans and critics alike enjoy the drama behind the scenes almost as much as the show itself. Only five years ago, mummer Patyr of Sandstone (best known for his portrayal of 'Hortensyo Nartell', a third cousin of Alequandro) has been exposed as a Lyseni slave trader. His subsequent dismissal from the show's cast was hotly debated and finally led to the 'voluntary resignation' of two casting agents. In comparison, Mylena's spurious heritage seems negligible, yet the studio had reckoned without their host - or their growing Dornish fanbase.

"'Days of Dorne' has been airing since the days of Aegon's Conquest," Lady Larya Manwoody stated, visibly upset by the subject. "Yet there have only been sixteen mummers of Dornish descent in all those years! It is an affront, seeing how our culture and our history is presented as an entertainment to other realms, yet Dornish voices can rarely be heard."

Lord Vanghys Toland, however, advocates a more relaxed position on the matter. "I don't understand why this is such a big deal," he told our correspondent last week. "She is surely pretty enough to be Dornish. If she wants to represet my people, I'm all for it! Mylena! I love you, no matter what blood flows in your veins! Should you seek a husband, I urge you to consider your biggest fan!"

Fans from other realms have been more reserved in voicing their opinions. While some sympathize with the plight of the Dornish, others would prefer to return to normalcy before the 467th season's grand finale. The resolution of an intricate plot - involving Alequandro's old nemesis, a Lyseni pirate king, and a mysterious monkey - is ahead, and fans would rather not let backstage drama detract from the riveting plot line.


	11. Movie - Samwell Tarly and the Book of Anachronisms

Samwell Tarly's life had always been a miserable one. His father, Lord Randyll Tarly, was a cold and cruel man. Day in and day out, he complained about his son's weakness. He punished Sam for even the smallest of failures, and sometimes even for no reason at all. Sam remembered more than one occasion when his father had threatened to yeet him off Horn Hill's tallest tower. Randyll Tarly was THAT kind of jerk, through and through. 

No day went by without Sam wishing to escape his woeful situation, but obviously that was easier said than done. His narcissist dad kept hiring tutors to whip his wimp of a son into shape. His mother was a doormat altogether, and Sam's younger sisters just didn't care. They were obsessed with YiTish boybands, discussed the latest scandals on 'Days of Dorne' to death whenever a new episode went on air, and couldn't be assed to stand up for their brother.

The little joy Sam had known was found in books, in fantastical worlds filled with wizards and dragons. Of course, Randyll couldn't stand his son's nerdy pursuits, therefore Sam only read in secret, hidden away in the cupboard under the stairs that served as his bedroom. A dim candle was enough to bring the vivid descriptions from the old tomes to life. Deep down, Sam hoped the books would show him the way to a better life. Not all those stories were fictional, were they? No, some were a solid 9 on a scale from '0 is bullshit' to '10 is totally real'! Lann the Clever, for example, had really conned the Casterlys out of their castle. Who was to say none of the tricks in those books would work out for Sam?

However, when Sam's fifteenth name day approached, he still hadn't found a solution to his manyfold problems. None of the many glass slippers he tried magically fit his foot. No fairy godmother whisked him away in a cabbage carriage at midnight. For fuck's sake, he didn't meet any of the requirements the books described! Apparently, magical miracles only happened to baseborn girls, and they had either an evil stepmother at their disposal, or an absent father who later turned out to be a king. Seriously, how was a well-nourished noble son supposed to get ahead in life?

Sam dreaded his name day more than anything, even dragons. This time, his father's threat was for real. Randyll had enough of the nerdy shit once and for all, Sam just knew it. He'd be shipped off to the shittiest boarding school in the world, some remote castle that didn't even have a stable connection to Netflix. If the idea of running away alone hadn't already been so exhausting, Sam would have packed his bags and fucked off to Oldtown or something.

His name day rolled around, and - as Sam had expected - it began with a loud thud on his door. However, when he opened it and crawled out of his cupboard, it wasn't his father who stood outside. It was a bearded man of enormous size. He wasn't just tall, he also exceeded Sam's own, rather impressive dimensions in width. This dude looked barely human - an absolute unit. 

"Lord Umber, what are you doing here?" Sam fired his best shot at the situation.

"I'm not Lord Umber," the absolute unit gave back with a smile. "My name is Wun Wun. I'm here to give you this letter." He produced an envelope, laughably small in the man's giant hand. "Yer a wizard, Samwell Tarly. This is your acceptance letter to the House of the Undying, an academy for wizards located in Qarth."

"Shut the front door!" Sam gasped in excitement. "You serious, bro? I'm a wizard? They'll teach me to sling spells and do all sorts of sick magic in this place? Holy shit, that's the best name day surprise ever!"

And so Sam set out for a very different journey than his jerkass father had in mind. Instead of twiddling his thumbs without Netflix at the great Northern Wall, Sam traveled to the distant city of Qarth with the giant. He vowed to study hard and learn all about the wizarding secrets. 

One day, he'd be the greatest, most powerful wizard who ever lived. One day, he would bring the realms under his heel and make them suffer for all the injustices he had endured at Horn Hill. He'd burn down cities and castles, unleash famine and disease to devour the realms! The sun would be blotted out by the blackest of shadows! Terrible, mutated hordes of monsters would come from the east! Children would drown in rivers of blood! Harvests would rot in the fields! One day, the entire world would know the name Samwell Tarly and tremble with fear. 


	12. Harry Strickland, P.I.

The lass who had just walked into his dingy office had it all. Smoky eyes as deep as the Kingswood, curves that could make a knight forget his vows, an air of elegant desperation. Her auburn hair would have reflected the light, coming in through the cracks of the boarded up window, in the colors of a late autumn sunset - had this been technicolor instead of the black and white flick it was. Money. She had money, too. Her fine robes, linnen and wool trimmed with costly furs, betrayed that a well-filled purse was hidden underneath the flowing layers.

"Mr. Strickland?"

Her voice was husky, her demeanor clandestine.

"That would be me, my lady," Harry Strickland gave back from behind his dusty desk. "How can I be of service?"

She cautiously swayed to the room's center, but kept a more than proper distance to the desk. "Apologies," she breathed. "I am not used to such dealings, but I don't know who else I could turn to." Her eyes surveyed the room although there was not much to see. Burnt down candles, stacks of much-thumbed tomes on the floor, drawers overflowing with tattered scrolls, and in the corner by the door a coatrack that almost looked like a hooded man in the dim half-light. "I need answers." Her voice was firmer now, and she approached the desk bare of hesitation, as if she had just made a steadfast decision deep down in her heart.

"I'm somewhat of an expert in digging those up." Harry shot her a crooked smile, trying to exude confidence and composure, but those smoky eyes, those curves, that possibly-auburn mane didn't make it easy. 

"So I heard. You're the best, people say. This is why I sought you out, Mr. Strickland." She produced a small, oblong box and set it on the desk, then elegantly opened the clasp to reveal its content. "This dagger was taken from an assassin. Fortunately, the attempt at my son's life failed. However, as you can imagine, this is not where my tale ends." A pause, one of deliberation, not hesitation. "An old friend claims to know who owns this dagger. Who was behind the vile attack on my boy."

Harry took the dagger from the box to inspect it. A fine blade. Valyrian Steel, excellent craftsmanship, one of a kind. "But you have doubts?" he inquired as he glanced up again. "You don't believe the dagger's owner is the true culprit?"

She nodded. "The man my old friend accuses has no reason to do such a thing. While he is no stranger to unsavory pursuits, this just doesn't seem to fit in. Indulging in wine and frequenting brothels are not the pastimes of a virtuous man, but still... It is a far cry from attempts on a young boy's life." A sigh filled a pause. "But on the other hand, I don't know why my childhood friend would be lying."

"I'll find out, my lady." Harry Strickland said. "Consider me hired."


	13. Days Of Dorne - Episode 674793

"You are not going to marry the Lord Reaper of Pyke!" Prince Alequandro shouted although his cousin, Lady Ofelya, stood only four steps away. "Kondor Tealjoy is a nasty bugger! There are even whispers calling his true birth into question! I will not see my dear cousin wed to a reaver - one who might be a bastard to boot!"

Lady Ofelya rolled her eyes, not hiding the youthful annoyance from her uncle. "You don't even know him!" She defiantly crossed her arms and began pacing up and down in front of the window. "He's not 'nasty'. As all Ironborn, he merely abides by the traditions of a different culture. If you were not so ignorant toward distant realms and their people, you'd understand that..."

"I'm not ignorant!" the prince thundered. "I understand perfectly fine! Kondor Tealjoy led no less than three invasions of the mainland in the last year alone! Twice his fleet attacked the city of Oldtown, and Lannisport was assaulted as well. None of which even touches the subject of his questionable birth. Born to a salt wife! What kind of culture passes over three trueborn daughters in favor of a base-born concubine's son?"

"If you won't agree to the betrothal, I will ask him to abduct me." Lady Ofelya shot her uncle a daring pout. "Then I will be a salt wife, just like Kondor's mother!"

"Don't you dare propose such a treachous, dishonorable thing!" Alequandro's voice cracked in anger. "You are confined to your chambers! Guards! Guards! Take Lady Ofelya to the Spear Tower! She is not allowed access to the rookery, and I don't want her to speak to the seneshal or the maesters! Send Septa Claryssa to her. Maybe she can talk some sense into the girl."

Ofelya smirked when the guards approached her. "Nothing will ever change my mind!" she called out to him as they took her away. This match is meant to be! You can't defy destiny, uncle, you shall see!"


End file.
